The Hypotheticals
by ShatteringDaybreak
Summary: A collection of Royai AUs, spanning pretty much every "What If?" ever uttered. You name it, I've got it on my list. Open for requests. Chapter 3: The Shape of a Voice
1. Oscar Night

**A/N: I am an AU junkie. I love them to death, and yet I've discovered that Royai ones can be extremely hard to find. So, if I can't find them, might as well write them, yeah? I've compiled a list of 63 AUs to work with (ranging from the serious to the absolutely insane), and I'm always up for requests. If you've got an idea, put it in a review, or send me a PM, and I'll reply no matter what. Expect sporadic updates, though, since I've got other projects I really should be working on. **

**I wasn't originally going to start with this one, but it's Oscar Night, so I couldn't resist. EDIT: Whoops, screwed up a term. All fixed now.**

**62. Movie Star AU**

* * *

All That Glitters

* * *

Usually, the Oscars are abuzz with any number of speculations on the night's winners, but this year, there's only one topic on everyone's lips: the stunning duo that is Roy Mustang and Riza Hawkeye. It's not their debut everyone's talking about, though, since at seven years together in the business, this isn't the first awards show they've attended. It's not even the first time they've ever been nominated. It is, however, the first year that everyone knows they'll win.

Roy Mustang and Riza Hawkeye. The two actors had grown up together in a small town in the Midwest. The ink had barely dried on their high school diplomas when they moved to Hollywood to try their luck in the film industry. By all accounts, neither of them should have made it. At the very least, one of them shouldn't have. But Roy Mustang was a suave charmer and Riza Hawkeye was an old soul, and the two were damn good actors. When their first feature film was released, Hollywood was ablaze with wagging tongues.

Of course, any movie featuring two complete newcomers would be enough to make headlines, but add in the stunning performances both leads put in, and critics took notice. _Watch these two_, tabloids said, _because they mean business_.

Everyone expected them to part ways after that, of course. That's what actors did, after all. You make a film, premiere it, then you move on to something new with someone else. Not Roy and Riza. They liked to stick together, and after a few more films, casting directors seemed okay with that. No one was about to argue with the chemistry between them.

After a few years, everyone knew they were a package deal. So of course, that was when they decided to shake things up. Imagine the country's surprise when the trailer for the latest action film featured Riza Hawkeye's name…and not Roy's. Tabloids went nuts, speculating that the two had had a lover's quarrel (despite the several dozen times they'd denied such a relationship). When asked about the split, Riza smiled and shook her head, saying, "We're not 'splitting up', as you say. We've just found other genres that we'd like to explore. We'll still be working together, of course. That's never going to change."

And that was how it went. They'd release one or two films together, then take a film for themselves. Riza preferred the action/thriller flicks, since more often than not she could do her own stunts. She wouldn't accept any old script though, something she was more than happy to explain to quizzical talk show hosts. "I don't want to play a character that was originally designed to be a man," she said once. "You can't just slap a girl's name on a character and be done with it. Women are just as complex as men, and I love to be in movies that showcase that. A woman can fight just as a man can, and I like to prove that." Girls around the country took notice, and Riza became something of a role model for them.

Roy, however, was a little more eclectic in his taste. He liked to dabble. Be it sci-fi, horror, historical dramas…you name it, he was game (though he really preferred the indie films). Some day he planned on directing some films, maybe make his way up to founding his own production company. But for now, he settled for reading the scripts that no one else would.

Small-time writers loved him for this very reason, since he was their best shot at making it big. The Elric brothers were a prime example. They were relative nobodies in the film business, until they sent the script for _Midnight Hour_ to Roy Mustang. He'd been due for a solo film that year, and theirs was the one he'd chosen. The two brothers also directed the film, and though the eldest brother—Ed—and Roy fought like cats and dogs, when the finished product took Sundance by storm, nobody said a word about the difficulties of making it. Alphonse, the younger brother, often credited Roy for their success, while Ed would simply mutter under his breath and look vaguely disgruntled. He couldn't deny, though, that Roy was the spark that lit their career (he just wouldn't admit it aloud).

Spectacular as these side projects were, there was something missing from them that could only be found in the films they made together. Their on-screen chemistry was unmatched in the entire industry—though they both adamantly denied an off-screen relationship. No one, of course, ever seemed to believe them. That didn't stop the press from asking.

Roy came close, once, to revealing the truth behind their relationship. "We're actors first," he'd said. "If we got together in real life, who knows what that would do to our chemistry?" He'd shrugged, then grinned. "Besides, we're fine the way we are."

Tabloids were quick to point out that he hadn't explicitly said that there was no desire for a relationship. In fact, his answer made it seem like the exact opposite, hadn't it?

And thus, the fire was stoked to even greater heights.

This isn't to say that either actor is flawless. They're both people, after all, and people make mistakes. They've had their ups and downs like any actor might, but this film, the one that's up for award after award….this is their career best, and no one's disputing that.

When their limo pulls up to the red carpet, excited chatter breaks out. Fingers point, people jostle, all to catch one glimpse of the talk of Hollywood. Roy climbs out first, flashing a grin and a jaunty wave to the adoring press. He reaches back as a pale gold heel hits the ground and a slim hand takes his. Riza steps out gracefully, and as soon as she's upright Roy slips a hand around her waist, and they begin their journey down the carpet.

Riza's dressed in an elegant wine-colored gown that spills down her body, hugging her curves and showing off her pale skin. Her long blonde hair is twisted up into an elegant chignon, and is held in place by sparkling hairpins. A pair of ruby red studs dot her ears, a birthday present from Roy back before they'd made it big. She likes to keep little things like this, to remind her of their roots.

Roy is dressed in an elegant tuxedo, all black and white, save for the burgundy bowtie under his neck. He likes to match her whenever they attend premieres and awards shows, not seeming to care that they only fueled the rumors regarding their relationship. Whenever he showed up wearing a tie that managed to match her dress exactly, she would roll her eyes and shake her head, but she never told him to stop.

They begin their press hopscotch down the carpet, answering questions that span across numerous topics, from who Riza is wearing (Rebecca Catalina), how they both were feeling (excited and proud), until finally, they reach two of their favorite journalists.

Maria Ross and Denny Brosch were among the first to interview Roy and Riza, back before they really made it famous. They were both kind and funny, and very dedicated to their jobs. While other reporters might be asking more superficial questions about their personal lives or their relationship, Maria and Denny liked to focus on the films. As a result, they were the two journalists who got the most access to the actors.

"_Promised Day_, for our viewers who don't know, is a film that depicts two soldiers caught in a war of extermination, and their struggles on and off the battlefield. Now, I just recently saw this movie," Maria says, turning from the camera to the stars, "and I couldn't help but get the feeling that this film is different from the others you've done."

Denny nods in agreement. "I heard that this movie was the most intense one you've filmed to date. Can you elaborate on that? What all did you two do to prepare for these roles?"

Riza nods for Roy to answer, and he does. They're comfortable enough answering for each other that more often than not, a question asked of one of them is answered by both. "Well, when Riza and I first accepted the roles, we sat down with Maes Hughes, the director, and we had a very intense discussion about how we wanted to portray these characters. As you know, the events in _Promised Day_ are fictional, but the struggles these soldiers go through are very, very real. So Riza and I decided that we needed to sit down and talk with veterans who'd been on the frontlines, and who'd experienced events like that. We wanted our portrayals to reflect and honor them, in a way."

Riza adds, "The mentality was a very crucial part, of course, but we didn't think that would be enough."

"_She_ didn't," Roy cuts in. "Let me just say right now, what we did next was all her."

Maria and Denny laugh as Riza raises one eyebrow at him. This is the dynamic that everyone knows well: the joking charmer and the serious partner who keeps him in line. "You agreed in the end," she reminds him, the turns back to the anchors. "_We_ decided," she says, stressing the word, "that the mentality wasn't enough, that we needed to bring the physicality of being a soldier to the screen. So we stayed at an army base for a few weeks and went through a boot camp similar to what these soldiers go through."

The journalists' eyes widen. "Boot camp? Really?"

Riza shrugs. "These people go through so much in defense of our country, so why can't we get a little taste of that to help our performance?"

"That's dedication," Denny says appreciatively.

"This is what we do for a living," Roy says, shrugging. "And we want to be the best at it. So if that means going a little farther, well, then, that's what we'll do."

"Well, I really think all that hard work is going to pay off tonight," Maria says. "We wish you all the best."

After that interview, there was no one left who doubted that Roy and Riza deserved to win.

Not much attention is paid to the early awards, as everyone's waiting impatiently for the Big Four. _Promised Day_ is up for Best Actress, Best Actor, Best Director, and Best Film. A four-way sweep was pretty much unheard of, making that night (potentially) one for the history books.

Best Actress is the first of the Big Four to come up, and there's a palpable shift in the theatre as the Armstrong sibling walk out to present. Names are called, faces shown, and movie clips played, but there's only one that everyone's waiting for.

"Riza Hawkeye," the soft, neutral tones of the announcer say, "_Promised Day_."

The screen cuts from a shot of Riza's face to a longshot of a large, empty room. Two women stand on either end, facing each other. Riza's dressed in combat fatigues, a gun hanging from her hands. Her costar, an actress names Solaris, is dressed in form-fitting black clothes, and appears unarmed. The body of a bulky man, also in combat fatigues, lies behind her. "Now, then, where was I?" she purrs, her sultry voice echoing through the theatre. "I think I was about to send the Lieutenant to join her superior."

Riza's character stiffens. Solaris advances slowly, her muscles rippling with a leonine grace. The camera cuts to a close up of Riza's face. There's a sharp intake of breath as Riza's eyes widen. "Wait a minute," she says, her voice shaky, and the camera cuts to the gun clasped in her trembling hands. "So when you said you'd already had to kill someone," –cut to Solaris' face—"…it can't be. You didn't!"

Cut to an extreme close up of Solaris' lips, which are curled into a cruel, unapologetic smirk. The focus switches to Riza's face once more. The kaleidoscope of emotions is gone, leaving only anger in its place. "_You bitch!_" she screams, and starts firing.

The screen fades to black, and light applause is scattered through the theatre. As it dies down, one of the Armstrongs starts fiddling with the envelope, and a hushed silence descends.

"And the Oscar goes to…Riza Hawkeye."

Thunderous applause breaks out as Riza stands and climbs the stage to accept her award. Roy is grinning from ear to ear, and as a camera focuses on him, he puts two fingers in his mouth and whistles, long and loud. Those around him look on with smiles on their faces.

Riza gives a humble smile as she stands at the podium. "Thank you so much," she says, her steady alto cutting through the last of the applause. Neither Roy nor Riza had bothered to prepare a speech, not because they didn't think they would win, but because both believed in speaking in the moment. "I'm honored to receive this award, so thank you to the Academy. Thanks to the cast and crew, for making the film possible. Now, I'd like to take the time to thank the veterans that I spoke with, and those that I didn't. While _Promised Day_ depicts imaginary events, the struggles our soldiers go through are not. They give their lives for our country, so I'd like to dedicate this to them." She holds the award up to applause, but stays where she is to deliver the last of her speech. "And lastly, to Roy. I could not have given the performance I did without you. Thank you." She smiles again and ducks her head before leaving for the press room.

Roy (hopefully) won't have to wait long to join her. Best Actor is next. Jean Havoc and Breda Heymans walk out to present, and all eyes are once more on the screen.

Roy's name is last on the list, as though paired with Riza's. "Roy Mustang," the announcer says, "_Promised Day_."

The screen fades to a shot of a dimly lit underground tunnel. Roy, dressed in army gear, stands over the shivering form of a man. Blood stains Roy's knuckles and the stone floor below in the obvious aftermath of a fight. Wracked sobs echo from the man on the ground. The camera is focused on his face, and the tears leaking from his eyes. "Please," he begs, his voice a high tenor. "Don't shoot! I don't wanna die!"

The camera cuts to Roy's face as it twists into a mask of hatred. "I'm not giving you a choice," his character snarls. "Now burn in hell!"

A thumb pulls back the hammer of a gun, and the camera cuts to a shot of Roy in profile, with Riza standing behind him, holding a gun.

"And what do you think you're doing?" he asks, voice low and dangerous.

The camera switches to a head-on shot, showing Riza just over his shoulder. "That's enough, Colonel," Riza says, voice rock-steady. "I'll deal with him from here."

"He's as good as finished," Roy answers darkly. "Lower your weapon."

"I can't obey that. Put your weapon down."

"_Dammit!_" he roars. "I won't ask again!"

The screen fades to black once more, to a smattering of applause. Havoc plays with the envelope some, drawing out the tense moment. Breda elbows him before it can get too far, and Havoc relents. "And the Oscar goes to…Roy Mustang."

Roy pops up out of his seat with a smile. Hands slap his back as he makes his way down the aisle to the podium that Riza has just vacated.

She's watching him from a live feed backstage, and the press knows they're not going to get any answers from her until she sees his speech.

"Not sure how I'm gonna top Riza's," he says, "since she pretty much covered it." Laughter rippled through the audience. "Thanks to the Academy, of course. Maes Hughes, one of my closest friends. You did one hell of a job here. Cast and crew, like Riza said. To the producers, for funding this project." Even when giving a thank you speech, Roy can still be trusted to charm and schmooze the higher-ups. He rattles off a few more important names, being careful not to leave anyone too important out. "And lastly, Riza. Of course." He chuckles. "We've been doing this for years, but she stills challenges me every day. I couldn't have done this without her." He tosses off a small salute, then leaves the stage to join her backstage.

They're the talk of the town that night. Everyone with a camera wants a shot of the two stars with their awards, and a few beckon Maes Hughes over to show off his recently acquired one. Lights flash and voice shout out, and for once, they don't mind.

Roy and Riza don't leave each other's side that night. It's not until they're in the car once more, heading home, that Roy leans over and presses a surprise kiss to her lips.

She blinks. "Roy—"

"Sorry. I've been wanting to do that all night, but I figured you'd be unhappy if I planted one on you in front of the cameras."

She gives him an unreadable look. "Thank you."

He smirks at her. "I've got more, if you want."

"Roy, we've discussed this before."

"I know, I know. If we date, they'll focus more on that and not on our work. I just don't think it would be as bad as you make it out to be." She shoots him a look and he yields. "But it's whatever you want." He darts forward again and kisses her again. "Last one, I promise."

Riza doesn't believe him, but she doesn't say anything. In truth, she'd been wanting to do the same thing.

Perhaps their next film would be a romance.


	2. Into the Drift

**A/N: There are an appalling lack of Pacific Rim AUs out there. Just saying. **

45. Pacific Rim/Jaeger

* * *

Into the Drift

* * *

When the Jaeger program first launched, it was a requirement that all active military personnel apply to the pilot program. Not all would qualify for the position, it was explained, and even fewer would find someone with whom they were drift compatible. Those who knew they were unfit for piloting breathed sighs of relief, while those who yearned for the position held their breath anxiously for the results.

The exam itself was intensely rigorous, and composed of three parts. The first was a physical exam, which determined the physiological capabilities of each applicant. Those not physically fit were struck from the candidacy list immediately, and would not proceed. The second part of the exam was a very thorough written exam. Each question was designed to reveal the personality of the taker, and would be used to match up potential drift partners. The third exam was to test the compatibility of these potential partners, and took the form of a simple sparring session.

The whole series of tests took three days, one for each part. When the results were revealed, absolutely no one in the Amestrian Military was surprised to hear that Roy Mustang and Riza Hawkeye were drift compatible. It hadn't been much of a question, really, but the higher-ups were strict on protocol and had insisted on completion of the entire exam. Both soldiers obeyed, though both suspected what their results might be. They weren't wrong.

"Roy, buddy! You ready for the drift?" Hughes, chief drift technician and one of Roy's closest friends, clapped him on the shoulder the morning of their first synchronization. The bespectacled man sipped at a mug of coffee in his hand, then grinned. "It'll definitely be a wild ride, that's for sure. Nothing like the drift."

"As long as you've worked the kinks out," Roy said dryly, shifting his helmet from one hand to the other.

Hughes reared back, mock offense written across his face. "Hey, that was one bug, and the pilots are fine, really!" He sobered and added, "But seriously, I had Fuery and Breda run through the patches twice. Everything's looking peachy."

"I'm assuming this is about the bug that sent the Elric brothers to the hospital?" Roy turned to see Riza coming up behind them, her brown eyes steady as always.

"That was not my fault!" Hughes said, gesturing with the mug and sending a few drops spilling to the floor. "Just because Tucker decided to go freelance with his programming…"

"We know," Riza said, a flash of humor in her eyes. "I heard Fuery was up all night trying to fix it. Falman told me."

"Hey, I wouldn't let you guys go in if I didn't think it was safe," Hughes said seriously, leading then into the bridge. Screens blinked impatiently before them, some waiting for vitals, some painting pictures of technical readouts from the Jaeger itself. The two harnesses floated near the ceiling, just above the bolts that would secure their feet into the bipedal controls. As Hughes began to fiddle with an instrument panel near the front to bring the harnesses into position, Roy pulled Riza to the side.

"Are you ready for this?" he asked in a low voice.

"You know I am, sir."

Roy held up a hand. "We're about to drift together, Hawkeye. Ranking seems unnecessary."

She nodded, and something in her eyes made him say, "When we go in there, we'll be able to see everything about each other. And I mean everything. You'll see all of me, and I'll see all of you."

There was an unspoken question behind his words, one she could read effortlessly. "I agreed to follow you into hell. The drift won't change that."

Roy nodded crisply and turned to Hughes. "Ready for us?"

Hughes pressed a few more buttons, then said, "Absolutely. If you'll just take your places, I'll be heading for the control room." He lifted his coffee mug in a salute before taking his leave.

Roy winced as the harness clicked into place along his back, and tried not to fidget as his boots were bolted into place. He felt strangely confined in the harness, and once again he wondered how these things were supposed to move when he was strapped down so securely.

"Control to _Little Alchemy_, come in." The radio crackled to life as Hughes' cheerful voice came through.

"_Little Alchemy_ reading you loud and clear," Roy replied. "Are we just about ready?"

"Almost. Hang tight a second while we run diagnostics. You can go ahead and put on your helmets."

Both soldiers did so, breath fogging up the glass before the supplementary oxygen supply whisked it away. Yellow light glowed in Roy's periphery.

"Helmet com check," Hughes said. "You read me?"

"I read you," Roy said. He could hear Riza's confirmation a moment later.

"Everything's looking stable on our end. Got your vitals plugged in, diagnostics have all checked out." Havoc's light voice crackled through the coms. "We're ready for the drift, sir." Whether this last was directed to Roy or Hughes, Roy didn't know.

He looked to Riza. "Ready?"

She nodded.

"Initiate drift in 3…2…1…"

Roy shuddered as a great roaring sound filled his ears. A massive tingle of electricity raced up his spine and into his brain, which suddenly felt about three times bigger than normal. He barely had time to catch his breath when images began to race in front of his mind, one after another. As he focused , he made out quite a few memories from his childhood before other images began playing in front of him. These he didn't recognize.

He saw a tall woman with straw-blonde hair and a wide smile. She was holding his hand as they walked through a field with waist-high grass. She was replaced with a man he knew to be Riza's father, sitting at the dining room table and talking to him (it was then that he realized he was seeing everything through Riza's eyes). And as the images kept racing in front of him, emotions began to flow after them.

He felt her frustration with her father's distant words, her isolation as he locked himself away, her determination through her Academy days, despite her sexist instructor's harsh insults. Her steps became his, and her thoughts drifted into his mind.

A warm tingling crept into his fingers and toes so gradually that he was unaware of the feeling until it filled him head to toe. This was pure affection, he realized as he took in the faces of their team: eager Fuery, tapping furiously at a keyboard; Breda, squinting at a chess board; Falman, examining kaiju parts; Havoc, joking and laughing; Hughes, single-handedly supervising three different Jaeger teams…and countless others she'd met along her journey.

The tingling intensified, growing hotter and hotter as it receded into his torso. This was something more intense, he realized. This was a feeling not just for anyone.

He saw military blues walking down the halls of Eastern Command, sitting at a desk, standing at attention. His own burning tingle added to Riza's, and he realized not for the first time that in the drift, she would see the full extent of what he felt for her. How could she not, when all his memories of her were tainted with this aching burn?

Then, with a start, he realized that he was in the midst of her own memories, not his, and that he was looking at himself, not her, and that he was looking through her eyes, not his. This burning in his chest belonged to her, though it felt so much like his own that he could no longer separate the two.

The realization hit him like a punch to the sternum: he was not alone in this. Whatever he felt for her, she returned in equal measure. He released a great gust of breath that he must have been holding, and the meld drew them closer together.

She was right there, her mind intimately connected to his. Their memories flashed by in a great whirlwind, blurring together and losing all distinction. It didn't matter in the drift. Here, they were two halves of one whole, complementing each other, working with each other…

Loving each other.

As quickly as it started, the drift faded away, sucking its memories and emotions and togetherness back into itself, until it left two people shaking and gasping for breath in their harnesses.

"Everything okay, _Little Alchemy_?" Havoc's concerned voice echoed in his helmet. "We're reading a small spike in the vitals."

A smile played across Roy's face as he considered telling the bridge that the spike probably had nothing to do with the drift and everything to do with the person standing next to him. But all he said was, "We're fine here. Seemed like a successful first drift to me; how about you?"

"Looking good so far," Hughes said, replacing Havoc through the com. "We'll take small steps, so next time we'll try and get you to try out the hydraulics and see if you can get her to move. We don't want you to wear yourselves out too easily, not this early in the program. You're cleared to leave the bridge."

"Thanks, Hughes." Roy leaned forward as the harness disengaged, and he pulled his boots up forcefully as the bolts retracted. He stepped clear, then caught sight of Riza looking at him from across the bridge.

No words were needed, not after drifting like that. Words didn't seem like enough, so they just looked at each other, their shared experience written plainly on their faces. She knew what he'd seen and felt, and he knew the same for her. That burning feeling hadn't quite left his chest, and even as he looked at her now, it increased, filling his lungs and pushing at his ribs.

After a long minute, she nodded at him. He returned it, and with that one little gesture, they silently acknowledged what the other felt. This was something they could share in the drift, something that would make them stronger than any other Jaeger team.

Roy allowed himself a small smile as he left the bridge. If he'd turned to look behind him, he'd have seen Riza doing the same.


	3. The Shape of a Voice

72.) Blind (combined with Radio Star)

* * *

The Shape of a Voice

* * *

He fell in love with her voice, because that was all he had, at first. With others, at least he had a skim of fingers against an arm, the sweet or spicy scent of cologne, or the unexplainable prickle on the back of his neck that told him they were nearby.

But with her, he only had a voice.

He remembered the first time he heard it, not long after the accident. Back then he'd still been stuck in the hole of self-pity and misery he'd been faithfully digging every day. He was still figuring out how to adjust, how to restart a life that would never truly be the same. Dr. Marcoh kept reassuring him that there was a strong possibility of regaining his sight, but that was small consolation. He almost would rather there be no chance of seeing again; then, at least, there would be no painful spark of hope flickering in his chest. As it was, those days had passed in a despondent blur, punctuated only with the kind (yet exasperated) words of his friends, who tried the best they could but would never understand his situation. He didn't blame them for that.

It was then that he took to listening to the radio at the side of his bed. He'd never been one for talk shows or radio programs, but since books were out of the question (until he learned that complicated tactile system used for people like him), radio was one of the last modes of entertainment he had left.

After a whole hour of listening to a handful of different stations, he was very close to giving it up completely. He had tried to listen closely, to absorb the words and appreciate the stories being told. But there were too many words, all rocketing from the radio grills like bullets. They talked of everything and nothing and all that came between. If Roy were to get up from his hospital bed, then surely he would have to wade through an ocean of chatter to cross the room.

There was no finesse, Roy decided. No care and no thought and no time put into their shows. It irked him. If he were to rely on sound now, the least they could do was to fill the silence with words that meant something .

He reached over to the radio and felt around for the power button. His fingers brushed the tuning knob, knocking it slightly to the right. A burst of static crackled in the air, and that was when he heard her voice.

It made him pause, his fingers hovering over the dial, as her smooth alto drifted through the speakers. It was like a physical thing, her voice, keeping him from switching the radio off. He listened thoughtfully, hand still outstretched in the air, letting her voice wrap around his fingers and arm as it wound its way to his ears.

Her voice was lower for a woman, with a steel-tempered edge that added a fascinating dynamic. She had iron in her voice, she had thunder, and she had fire. There was no crossing the voice on the radio, and Roy found himself drawn in the more he listened.

And yet, her voice was not the only thing drawing him in. It was her words as well, picked out with such care, hardly a single one wasted or thrown away. Concise bordering on brusque, she was not one to toss off an ill-thought out remark. What she did say, she absolutely meant. In a time where Roy was beginning to discover the lengths people will go to in recovering from an unfortunately placed comment about his recently lost eyesight, her unapologetic (and often very well thought out) opinions kept him sane.

Her name was Riza Hawkeye, and she hosted a show that aired on weekday afternoons between two and four. Roy became a regular listener, and slowly, in small increments no one could really notice or point out, he began to climb out of his self-made hole.

It was hard, but then again, all recovery is. There were times when he slipped, reverting back to an old habit he'd thought he'd broken. He still caught errant thoughts of self-pity, but he was learning to banish them away. Riza helped, with her dry comments and her unflinching take on what it meant to live and be human. "You've got to do whatever you can to help those around you," she'd sometimes say. "And that sometimes means putting aside what you want and focusing on the world outside of yourself."

Talk about a kick in the pants.

But it was a kick in the pants he needed, and so he listened faithfully, hearing more of her voice than he thought others might, simply because he was growing so attuned to the sense. Without sight, his ears grew sharp, and maybe that's why he enjoyed her show so much. Even if the words stayed the same, it wouldn't be, without her voice.

And he'd never once met her.

He didn't tell anyone about his interest (infatuation?) with the show. Would they find it creepy? Or, in the case of his best friend, would they find some embarrassing meaning behind it and tease him mercilessly? He didn't want to risk either, so her kept quiet, opting instead to listen on his own, in the comfort of his home.

Months passed like this, and Roy didn't miss a single show if he could help it. He began to think of Riza as a friend, albeit one who only talked at scheduled times and couldn't ever actually answer him. He debated calling in to the radio program once, but decided it would probably be best if he didn't. The way she could tear apart a rude or ignorant caller in mere seconds told him enough about his chances (not that he was ignorant or rude, but he had a feeling that she could still dress him down in less time than it took to blink). But even though he never talked to her, every afternoon still felt like a conversation.

Her voice became a steady constant in a life that often felt like it was on the verge of upheaval every other week. The program was always there, and thought the topics changed wildly from week to week, her voice was the same. That steel-laced speech, calm and unflappable and dry never failed. And Roy began to realize that he felt much more attached to Riza than he should have, considering she didn't even know he existed. Every so often he would remember this, and he would consider not turning on his radio at 1:55, but he didn't think he had the strength for it. She'd gotten him through an extraordinarily difficult period in his life, and she couldn't just let it go like that was nothing. So he listened, and he tried to keep himself from wondering what she was like when she wasn't behind the microphone.

Things could have stayed like this infinitely, had it not been for the Saturday that Roy decided to walk to the park. Now, Roy wasn't a walk person. He most definitely wasn't a park person. But Maes had been pestering him about staying locked up in his house all the time (it wasn't his fault he worked at home now!) and growing paler by the day. Since Roy could no longer see his own complexion and certify that Maes was, in fact, telling the truth, he decided to take his friend's assertion on faith.

So there he was, swinging his cane across the sidewalk, sunglasses perched on his nose, following the path he knew led to the park. Everything had been going smoothly until his cane bumped up against what felt like a human leg, over to his left.

"Sorry about that," he said, managing to completely conceal his irritation. Usually people moved out of the way for him, and he could avoid these awkward encounters. He knew what would come next: a snippy remark, followed by a pregnant, tense pause, then a hasty, overdone apology. It sickened him, how everyone tripped over themselves to fix what was honestly a relatively small mistake. He was blind, and to some people, that stripped him of his humanity. He couldn't stand it.

But what he heard next was not a terse reply, or a flowery apology. What came next stunned him completely. Because _he knew that voice_.

"No, it's my fault. I didn't see you, or else I'd've moved out of the way. Sorry about that."

He froze, unsure of what to do. Because that was Riza's voice, but what was it doing here, on the street in front of him, instead of the radio on his coffee table? The lack of context threw him off, and for a moment, he wondered if he'd gotten it wrong. Surely it couldn't be Riza…but what if it was?

"Everything alright?" she asked him, and he tilted his head to better hear her voice. No, this was her. He should know, he'd listened to it every weekday for months.

"I'm sorry," he said again, but this one was more hesitant, "it's just…I think I've heard your voice before. This may be a weird question, but are you by any chance on the radio?"

She chuckled, and the sound confirmed his suspicions. "You've got a good ear. Yes, I am."

"Riza Hawkeye, right?" He really hoped that hadn't sounded as creepy as it did to him.

"You're right." He couldn't see it, but he imagined her head dipping in a nod.

He hesitated, rolling his words carefully on his tongue, tasting each and weighing the consequences of saying them. Finally, he decided to say what he'd been wanting to tell her almost form the beginning, consequences be damned. If she thought him strange afterwards, well, she didn't ever have to see him again.

"This might sound bizarre to you, but I sort of wanted to thank you. For your show, I mean." Here came the hard part. Roy braced himself, then pulled off his sunglasses and pointed his eyes in the direction Riza's voice was coming from. His eyes weren't clouded over or anything like that, but being blind had the unfortunate side effect of being unable to focus on anything. His black eyes always stared straight ahead, often appearing to look through whoever he was talking to. It was unsettling to most, so Roy had taken to wearing dark shades everywhere. But he took them off now, to illustrate his point.

"This happened about a year ago," he said, gesturing with the sunglasses and the cane he held by his side. "It was…a pretty dark time for me. I started listening to the radio just for something to do, and I came across your show. Kinda helped me out. So thanks, I guess." It came out almost sounding like a question, and was more uncertain than he'd've liked, but the words were out there. He'd said them, and somehow felt lighter now that they were gone from his mind.

There was a long silence, which gave Roy enough time to start panicking and wonder if he'd just done something monumentally stupid. But before he could stammer out an apology and beat a hasty retreat, Riza spoke again. "Thank you," she said quietly, and her voice sounded thick like syrup. "I'm glad I could do something for you."

Roy felt bold, standing there talking to a woman he'd previously only heard over the radio. Here was someone he'd grown close to through voice alone, and now he had a chance to meet the person behind the microphone. He wasn't stupid, he knew that she was probably much different than the radio made her seem, but that didn't scare him or put him off any. It filled him with a kind of buzzing anticipation, and maybe that was what pushed him to ask: "If you're not doing anything, would you like to join me for a walk?"

Riza's answer was immediate. "As long as you keep that cane of yours to yourself."

Any other person might have taken offense at her words, but Roy knew her voice well enough to hear the humor lacing it. He found it refreshing, that she would make a quip such as that after only just meeting him. Maybe she could sense that he was not one to relish the tripping excuses made by those who didn't know how to treat him, or maybe she refused to treat anyone that way. Whatever it was, Roy was glad for her sharp bite. God knew she needed it when it came to him.

One walk soon turned into another, which soon became coffee, which then turned into a steady companionship. Riza was invaluable when it came to tasks Roy couldn't always manage himself, and aside from a few (okay, more than a few) flippant remarks about his uselessness at certain things, she always managed to keep him on track.

She was his best friend and his partner. Her voice invaded his life more than it already had, and everyday Roy silently thanked Maes and his belief in the power of walks.

When his vision slowly returned years later, and he could finally see the beautiful woman he'd first heard on the radio (with her silky blonde hair and her fierce brown eyes), he would still say with absolute certainty that he loved her voice the most.


End file.
